She had things cut out from magazines taped up on her walls. Her room smelled like stale cigarettes and feet. And her raw ugliness awoke something animal in me.
We went down to the corner gas station and bought bad coffee, Irish. The Irish didn't help. Its Michigan, so it was windy, and it blew her long, dead, scraggly hair out of her scarred face. In the station she had been fingering a quarter in between her thumb and forefinger, it was gone now. I had nothing to say, and the silence was deafening, I almost didn't hear the wind. Her smokers cough broke it. Sharp, rasp, and from deep in the lungs. I didn't know how old she was, she could've been very young but her eyes shown that she had lived some mystery. Poor girl, I thought. You could tell she was sad, and you could tell she knew you were sad too. We walked to Bill's Laundromat. I carried her bag. Her dirty laundry.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Sunday, January 22, 2006
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Third part
He preferred the peanut m&m's he was popping in his mouth to the regular kind. Wrappers littered the room, I saw every single one when I walked in the door and heard them crinkle under my feet. He made no effort to hide them.
"we're a pair of pretentious fuckers, aren't we?" he said, without a hello.
"basically. Wow, the truth is harsh. I've become all I've ever hated." I joked.
"I know how that feels."
We were mean, bitter, cynical, bitches. We hated everyone and flaunted it. But eventually the thrill wears out. So, our entire purpose of friendship was wearing out. Before we were introduced, we didn't know the other existed. We both listened to the same music, wore the same clothes, liked the same movies, but were never aware of each others presence.
he jumped up off the bed quickly and grabbed his jacket from the chair as he flew out the door, wrappers crinkling behind him. I knew to follow. We got into his late 80's Honda and were driving down to the pizza place. I reached under my seat looking for a pack of cigarettes but all I found was an old bob Dylan tape. I was about to push it into the cassette player when he shrieked
"DON'T DO IT, IT EATS TAPES!"
"sorrysorrysorry!"
I decided to instead turn on the radio. Because his car was two decades old, not only was the seat foam coming out from the tears in the seams, but the antenna had fallen off too. So all we heard was white noise with what sounded like moody college radio underneath. I started to stare out the window.
"come back, daydreamer."
we were suddenly at the pizzeria.
"want a slice?"
"I don't feel like eating."
I walked to the back and slid into one of the booths in the corner. He came back with a greasy piece of pizza that looked exactly like his greasy face. I watched him poor a pound of Parmesan onto it. Then I watched him eat it. unlikemost people, this didn't seem to make him uncomfortable. He just kept shoving it in his face.
We started to have the same conversation we always have. First music.
" I love that song where it starts out really shitty and raw and then changes to those lyrics: ' those heartbreakers need to
leave this city this city leave this city and neva come back 'till there pure again.' "
"yeah, I like that to." the mystery with all rock lyrics is that the lines sound so great in the song, but taken out of them, they usually sound like crap.
then we moved on to:
"I hate people so much. They're ridiculous. I mean, look at that couple over there, does she really think she's gunny get laid giggling her leg like that?"
"I know! She's so unattractive. And you can totally see that the guy is just with her out of pity."
"or he cant find anyone better."
the sick pleasure we used to get out of this awful commentary had faded, and now we were just doing it out of routine.
"is it ok if we go down to the gas station?"
we left the pizzeria and walked past where he parked his car, and down to the corner. He bought peanut m&m's, and I got a tootsie roll pop. As I went up to the counter to pay the 25 cents I owed, I saw the nirvana junkie behind the cash register open his mouth.
"if you ask me how many licks I'm going to your manager and getting your ass fired for smelling like pot."
he looked slightly shocked. Back up the street to the car. Once we got in, he instantly opened the m&m's. I had stopped long ago expecting him to offer me some.
"I HATE this town. There's nothing to do. Its so goddamn boring."
another thing we had covered many times.
"well we could just drive around until we see something, or we could go to another town."
"I don't have enough money for gas to do that." he had already finished, and was crumpling up the wrapper.
"we're a pair of pretentious fuckers, aren't we?" he said, without a hello.
"basically. Wow, the truth is harsh. I've become all I've ever hated." I joked.
"I know how that feels."
We were mean, bitter, cynical, bitches. We hated everyone and flaunted it. But eventually the thrill wears out. So, our entire purpose of friendship was wearing out. Before we were introduced, we didn't know the other existed. We both listened to the same music, wore the same clothes, liked the same movies, but were never aware of each others presence.
he jumped up off the bed quickly and grabbed his jacket from the chair as he flew out the door, wrappers crinkling behind him. I knew to follow. We got into his late 80's Honda and were driving down to the pizza place. I reached under my seat looking for a pack of cigarettes but all I found was an old bob Dylan tape. I was about to push it into the cassette player when he shrieked
"DON'T DO IT, IT EATS TAPES!"
"sorrysorrysorry!"
I decided to instead turn on the radio. Because his car was two decades old, not only was the seat foam coming out from the tears in the seams, but the antenna had fallen off too. So all we heard was white noise with what sounded like moody college radio underneath. I started to stare out the window.
"come back, daydreamer."
we were suddenly at the pizzeria.
"want a slice?"
"I don't feel like eating."
I walked to the back and slid into one of the booths in the corner. He came back with a greasy piece of pizza that looked exactly like his greasy face. I watched him poor a pound of Parmesan onto it. Then I watched him eat it. unlikemost people, this didn't seem to make him uncomfortable. He just kept shoving it in his face.
We started to have the same conversation we always have. First music.
" I love that song where it starts out really shitty and raw and then changes to those lyrics: ' those heartbreakers need to
leave this city this city leave this city and neva come back 'till there pure again.' "
"yeah, I like that to." the mystery with all rock lyrics is that the lines sound so great in the song, but taken out of them, they usually sound like crap.
then we moved on to:
"I hate people so much. They're ridiculous. I mean, look at that couple over there, does she really think she's gunny get laid giggling her leg like that?"
"I know! She's so unattractive. And you can totally see that the guy is just with her out of pity."
"or he cant find anyone better."
the sick pleasure we used to get out of this awful commentary had faded, and now we were just doing it out of routine.
"is it ok if we go down to the gas station?"
we left the pizzeria and walked past where he parked his car, and down to the corner. He bought peanut m&m's, and I got a tootsie roll pop. As I went up to the counter to pay the 25 cents I owed, I saw the nirvana junkie behind the cash register open his mouth.
"if you ask me how many licks I'm going to your manager and getting your ass fired for smelling like pot."
he looked slightly shocked. Back up the street to the car. Once we got in, he instantly opened the m&m's. I had stopped long ago expecting him to offer me some.
"I HATE this town. There's nothing to do. Its so goddamn boring."
another thing we had covered many times.
"well we could just drive around until we see something, or we could go to another town."
"I don't have enough money for gas to do that." he had already finished, and was crumpling up the wrapper.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Sunday, January 08, 2006
I know every nook and krany of boulder city. This, sadly, is not a feat of any kind. I feel shellshocked, horrified, and culture clashed all at the same time. Boulder sucks, Colorado sucks. The first Saturday since I got back I felt bored, for the first time in 3 weeks, within three hours of waking. There is nothing to do, nothing to see, nothing to experience that hasn't been done a hundred times before. The monotony of school as dribbled into the weekend. Everything is the same and systematic. I want something new! Something fresh! This happened to me around the same time last year and I regretted every choice I made to make it exciting again, so I am a little hesitant to do anything about it, but I cant go on like this for much longer!
Saturday, January 07, 2006
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